


I of the Storm

by ohsweetredundancy



Series: Swords Crossed [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Adventures, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Captain Magnus Bane, F/M, I don't know if I should call this slow burn or not, M/M, Quartermaster Alec Lightwood, burn like you have an unevenly heated pan, different burn, fantastical elements, gratuitous nods to PotC, rating may change later, ships and history, strange burn, they already know each other, weird burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8860420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohsweetredundancy/pseuds/ohsweetredundancy
Summary: A snort exploded into a laugh, and though it didn’t take long for it to die enough to speak, the ongoing amusement and incredulity were palpable.  “A pirate is mad that someone stole something?  I never thought I’d live to see the day.”“We do have a code.  We’re not entirely unscrupulous.”  To this Magnus was indignant, the smirk falling into a tightly pressed line.  “The Clave, on the other hand, does as it will under the façade of its draconian Law.”Or the pirate AU no one asked for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey, everyone! Welcome to I of the Storm, and I'm really excited about this fic. I have a lot planned for it, but it’s definitely a bit inspired by PotC so you’ll see a few hints and nods here and there. Otherwise it’s going to have a bit of a different burn, and the story’s going to end up in two parts, so buckle in and try not to get too seasick.
> 
> This is unbetaed, so I apologize profusely for any errors. Also, if there are glaring inaccuracies you feel the need to (or would simply like to) inform me of, I’d be delighted if you came into my inbox with a nudge. Otherwise, if you have any other constructive criticism or would simply like to leave your thoughts, don't be afraid to drop a comment.
> 
> And a final question: would you prefer longer chapters but with more dispersed updates (>5,000), shorter chapters with quicker updates (<5,000), or would you prefer a continued hovering around 5,000? Variance with the natural break in mind, of course.
> 
> Title from Of Monsters and Men.
> 
> Cross posted on tumblr.

The sea protested.  It hailed the most treacherous of its waves to hammer against the ship, drowned it with the force of its rain, screamed and hollered with its cracks of thunder.  And still the vessel rolled with each blow, upright and strong, unyielding, though shouts cried out among the havoc.  They were acknowledgments to orders barked, listening lest they wish to capsize and succumb to the deep dark depths, although there was an urgency only emphasized by fear.  A man near the stony captain flinched as another order burst like a canon, similarly menacing, although he didn’t return fire; rather than fighting back he scurried and slipped to the edge of the ship.  The ropes, the ropes, the ropes.  A wave, slamming against and rocking the wood beneath his feet, left him reeling and clutching the rail to stay upright, or at the very least aboard.

There was little time for him to regather his bearings, another roll flinging him against the very wood to which he clung, and its climax hoisting him over.  No matter the frantic grappling, no matter how tight his grip, the wood slipped through his fingers.  If he who yelled orders above the sea and rain noticed, there was no indication, nor would there later be; there was no remorse for the fallen, no mercy for those who braved the elements.  Rather it wasn’t only a battle to endure or win; it was one of domination and control.

And, with a final roar, with the raise of a fist high above the wheel, he thrust into the sky an item that glinted under the flash of lighting.

And with a rumble the sea acquiesced.

* * *

“Swear to me you won’t start a bar fight when you meet him.  While I don’t think he’d say  _ no _ to me, I’d rather  _ not _ have to throw anyone overboard and leave them at the nearest port because you two can’t get along.”

Night had long blanketed the city, and still the life within it didn’t pause to rest.  The daytime bustle had turned into merriment and debauchery shoddily hidden within the shadows, veiled under the steady rainfall, and the misery of a poor sod passed out along the wooden walls of a building.  Only the minimal overhang and directionality of the rain shielded him from the downpour.  The gravel, long ago having absorbed as much of the storm as it could muster, crunched and ground beneath the weight of each step, and yet the shouts and cheers of warm interiors floated above the sound.

Though the wet long ago had ceased to bother him.  Living upon the seas as he did, barraged by wind, rain, sun, seawater, it’d been a necessity; seafaring never bode well for those who couldn’t weather the elements.  Within town, on the other hand, it’d become much more of a blessing.  He found it cleansed the stifling air of the stench of urbanism, of wretched human and animal, and cooled the heat of the port’s density.  The heavens, it appeared, were smiling down upon them.

“Come now, darling,” spoke his companion, which prompted a skeptical side eye from the man.  With the moon hidden behind the clouds, only the light dancing from the windows carressed the curves of his silhouette, winding along that slight upward turn of his lips.  “You wound me.  When have I instigating any debacle, hm?”

“Peru.  Lima.”  The reply was instantaneous.  “Not only did Ragnor tell me about  _ how _ you’ve been thrown out of the tavern, but also about your  _ infamous _ and  _ unwelcome _ reputation there.”  Though his boots were wet already, his feet cold and soggy, he sidestepped a puddle.

The other grumbled to himself before speaking up once more, though he surmised it to be expressing disdain at the dear friend for over informing his quartermaster yet  _ again _ of his past endeavors.  It’d been so his successor could better understand his role, the man and told him, although he suspected there’d been a bit of joy and nostalgia nestled within the stories.  “To be fair we’re  _ pirates _ , Alexander.  We’re not welcome much anywhere, in case you’ve missed that, and he had it coming.  Just as Ragnor does now.”

Alec expelled a huff akin to a sigh, rolling his eyes toward him.  “ _ Anyway _ ,  _ Magnus _ , he’s the contact you’ve been wanting to meet for a while now: the ex naval officer.”

“Ah, yes,  _ him _ .”  The  _ m _ continued as a hum for a moment longer, something thoughtful, pregnant.  “You still haven’t told me the story of how you’ve managed to make a contact like that, and I’d very much like to hear it.”

A story Magnus was likely to hear sooner than later, and it was knowledge that nauseatingly stalled the heart in Alec’s chest; that decorporealized him, disconnected him from his body, his limbs, from the passerbies on the saturated street.  His saving grace, however, was a sharp veer to their left and their destination.  “We were in the navy together.”  It was the same explanation he usually gave, and the firmness of its brevity punctuated by each step up onto the wooden porch and into the tavern.

A blast of heat awaited them, dirty and heavy from candle, human warmth, and humidity, but it wasn’t what halted them in their tracks.  Rather, for Alec, it was to put a bit more effort into scanning the crowd and searching for a head of radiant gold; if it was his primary focus, he needn’t have worried about Magnus’s further prying.  For Magnus, however, it was waiting for the other to move and lead toward their company.

And there he was, seated and leaning toward a slight woman with hair of fire, with his back turned toward a cluster of warbling drunkards.  It’d been months since their paths had last crossed, but the meeting seemed as banal as drinking at port during their navy days.  Alec blinked back to Magnus, jerked his head toward his  _ contact _ , and began to weave his way through the room.  Although, with how few of the patrons were sober enough to not wobble away from them, it’d been surprisingly easy.

“ _ Jace _ .”

The head of blond snapped up to meet him, golden eyes deepened by the yellows and oranges of the candle flames, and a brilliant smile ignited upon his lips.  It was a sight long overdue, discarding a tension held within his shoulders and nerves, and he was a presence that never lost its ease and familiarity.   _ Angel _ , how he’d missed this, Alec mused as he settled upon the bench.   _ Angel _ , how he’d missed  _ him _ , and a grin began to crest.

At least until a pointed cough pulled him from his joyous reunion, and, with his past and present startlingly close to one another, he shifted uncomfortably within his seat.  “ _ Right _ .  Magnus, this is Jace and ---”  The woman, however, he didn’t seem to recognize.  No name, no face, no recollection, although neither Jace nor she seemed all too perturbed by it.

“Clary.”  Her voice was cheery enough, polite enough, and with an underlying firmness that he he hadn’t foreseen.  Her smile was honey, sweet and charming, and Jace seemed all but entranced by it.  As if she were the sun and moon he regarded her, and it dawned on Alec the nature of their relationship.  Oh.  Had it happened since they’d last met?  Had he simply not mentioned her then?  When?

A swallow, an attempt to banish a lump threatening to render him mute, although it was fruitless.  Of course Jace’s life was dynamic, of course he was establishing a post-navy life of his own, and of course life would gift his friend a pleasant surprise.  Once more, a cough, and he was able to repeat back her name without a hint of a croak.  “ _ Clary _ .  This is Magnus, the captain of  _ Brooklyn _ .”

“We know who he is.”  The gold, warm and teasing, lingered on Alec for a moment before turning to the captain, serious and scrutinizing.  “His reputation precedes him,that and you never stop talking about him.”

Alec would have been quick to protest, clumsy words poised to tumble from his lips in a valiant defense, and they would have been realized as a choking sound.  Magnus was, however, faster.  “Only of the highest praise I hope.  Otherwise it’s outright lies and slander.”  And when his eyes were on him, the green of the land with caches of gold of riches, it wasn’t a heavy gaze, but it still made him wish to seek further refuge in his dripping coat.  To sidle out from underneath its weight.

A tilt of his head, an action that hid those eyes from the view with the edge of his hat and bangs, and it was the best he could in that moment.  “You’re a pirate captain.  Your reputation will always precede you.”

“Don’t paraphrase my words against me, Alexander.”

“Alright, we get it,” cut in Jace as he leaned across the table.  “Forget I said that, so can we move on?”

Alec, too, rested his weight upon table, hands clasped before him as his voice dropped.  Though they were in a tavern and none would pay them much heed, his voice was low, tone conspiratorial, and yet within it ran an undercurrent of a request.  “Right, yes.  We --- we want you to join us.  You know what the navy’s doing, its whereabouts, all that, you have experience, and you’re a damn good fighter.”  Then hastily amended with a, “Don’t let that get to your head.”

As though the further blessing of the captain could sway him, Magnus, too, ducked his head toward their huddle.  A raise of his chin allowed Alec to spy him once more as the captain spoke.  “And we need your expertise for something we’re after.”

Jace spared Alec a blink, raising his brows in questioning, and then turned the very look to Magnus.  Although, upon him, it seemed all the more intense, as if issuing him a challenge.  “And what is it you’re after?”

As though he’d been waiting for him to ask, a cat waiting to pounce upon his prey, he smirked.  Its energy visibly rain through him.  When he’d proposed this to Alec he’d thought him insane, as if the weeks at sea had finally driven him insane, but surely it was Magnus who’d pushed Alec to the brink of insanity when he’d agreed.  It’d been the very same look then, the very same posture, but this time covered in a veil of secrecy.  Just enough detail to entice the potential recruit and reel him in.  “The Clave took something of mine years ago, and I intend to get it back.”

A snort exploded into a laugh, and though it didn’t take long for it to die enough to speak, the ongoing amusement and incredulity were palpable.  “A  _ pirate _ is mad that someone  _ stole _ something?  I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“We do have a code.  We’re not entirely unscrupulous.”  To this Magnus was indignant, the smirk falling into a tightly pressed line.  “The Clave, on the other hand, does as it will under the façade of its draconian Law.”

Through a nod it seemed Jace was willing to concede that point.  “Alright, then, what are you trying to get back, and how does that involve me?”

“It’s a locket,”  Alec responded, this time before Magnus could.  He didn’t glance over to him, simply described.  “It has a red gem and Latin engraved on the back ---”

“ _ Amor verus numquam moritur _ .  True love never dies,”  supplied Magnus with a wistful sigh, taking full advantage of Alec’s pause for breath.

However, as if Magnus didn’t speak, Alec continued forth, leaning incrementally nearer to Jace as if he could simply will him to understand.  To know precisely what they were referring to.  “--- and you know how the Clave is.  It’s likely to be heavily guarded, so we’ll need to be smart and stay ahead of them.  I know them well enough to predict the decisions they’ll make, but you know how’ve they changed since.  You know what they’re doing.  We’ll need that if we want to get past the front doors.”

The epiphany was apparent as being doused, from the widened eyes to the lax jaw, only visible for a blink, and he paused.  Jace, he who’d been fearlessly along Alec’s side those years ago, hesitated, and it was with a mere glance to the woman with them.  “---  I’ll consider it.”

That was right.  Though his gaze didn’t follow Jace’s, though it was still immovably locked upon him, he could see one side of the exchange.  Each subtle shift he’d learned to read upon that strong brow, the sharp jawline, the tightening of the lips into a thinner line.  And suddenly the damp air of the rain seemed to drown him, the warmth of the room too hot, the walls and the people too close and confining.  But they needed him ---  _ Alec _ needed him,  _ Clary _ or whatever her name be damned to Hell.  “It’s the necklace you think it is.  You know exactly which one we’re talking about.”

The confirmation pulled Jace back to him, and there was a fleeting bit in him that was all too glad, that revelled in that he still had that effect on him.  But the feeling fled nearly as soon as that attention was upon him again, as the brows fell into something of concern and apprehension.  “Are you  _ certain _ , Alec?”

And, just like the unspoken conversation between Jace and Clary, the question was something only he could understand, the concern, while overt, had a context only he understood.  It wasn’t an inquiry of the piece itself, of the other sure items to loot and split among the crew, or even the danger of the mission itself.  Life as a pirate was perilous as it was.  No, it was a question of whether he was sure he wanted to return there, to face the monsters and demons that lurked upon the island, within the city, within those very halls.

And, while Alec was entirely unsure, his voice would have wavered unconvincingly as he would have spoken, eyes would have held Jace’s slightly too long or short, his clasped hands would have protectively neared him, and his old friend would have seen straight through it.  It was a question he’d been avoiding with Jace, and it was one Magnus hadn’t known to ask.  Perhaps with chiming in Clary garnered herself a favor.

“I’ll join you.  I’ll help.”  It made sense why Jace was drawn to such a woman, and suddenly it fit why someone so small, so lithe, so slight paired with him.  Her conviction left little space for rebuttal or argument, and it took Alec aback.

“ _ What _ ?”  fell from his lips with the grace of rocks, and he didn’t need to peek at Jace to see an equivalent astonishment upon his features.

To this, though, she appeared neither shy nor perturbed.  Rather she seemed smug, and, as a mark to a sharp intelligence, she directed her next words to the intrigued captain.  “I know a fair bit about cartography, so I’ll be useful to your navigator, and my father was a sailor.  I’m in.”

Magnus seemed positively thrilled at this development, outshining the candles illuminating the room.  “ _ Brilliant _ .”

“---   _ Magnus _ \---”  Though he knew protesting was for naught.  It wasn’t a secret to the four of them that Clary had been the only variable in Jace’s noncommittal answer, and her recruitment would not only give them a resounding  _ yes _ but reinforce it.

However, despite the skills she’d bring and the promise of Jace, it meant having her aboard the ship.  Thus far her presence had led Jace to a few surprises, and the uncertainty made his stomach uneasy.

His comically contrasting captain rose from his seat, delightedly tapping the table with his hand once, twice, thrice before announcing, “I’ll get us drinks to celebrate.”  Maybe the rest of the night wouldn’t be so bad because, the unwitting angel that Magnus was, Alec needed a drink --- and a strong and long one.

Though somewhere along the way in their discussion, within the warm of the tavern, swimming among the heat and the humidity, it’d gone unnoticed that the hum of the rain upon the roof had ceased.  After all, with the cheer of the drunkards next to them, a long overdue reunion, an unforeseen factor to forget, though a success to rejoice, attention naturally fell elsewhere.


End file.
